


The Kinder Choice

by Rose_of_Pollux



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Canon-typical peril, Episode Related, Gen, Minor Character Death, Trust, discussions of death but nothing shown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 23:50:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6134311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the events of “The Vulcan Affair” have Napoleon thinking about things. Takes place after the events of this episode, as well as a flash forward to “Gurnius Affair.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kinder Choice

The image was still clear in Napoleon’s mind even after the Vulcan Affair is closed—him, shooing Soumarin and Nobuk out of the reactor room and just barely closing the door as the orange flames completely take over it. But that wasn’t what unnerved Napoleon the most; it’s the fact that, once they made it outside, he had to stand by and watch as Soumarin and Nobuk mourned Ashumen’s death—the death of one they considered to be their dearest friend, who, in truth, had been willing to betray them to their deaths. 

For a moment—just a split-second—Napoleon considered telling them the truth. He tried to justify it by saying that the truth is what they needed to hear, that they needed to know not to mourn that turncoat, and that, together, the two of them could carry on the noble work they intended to from the start.

But as he heard them recall fond memories of Ashumen, and vowing to carry on in his name, Napoleon sighed and turned away. The lie is kinder, he realized; let them cherish the memories they have, rather than look back on them once they are tainted with the bitter truth.

“Napoleon?”

His partner’s voice jostled Napoleon back to the present. Illya stood there, holding the mission report that Napoleon had asked him to read over.

“So, what do you think?” he asked.

“I think your report is fine,” Illya said. “But you are not yourself.”

“You think so?”

“I have been working with you for four years now, Napoleon,” the Russian says, sitting on top of Napoleon’s desk. “I can tell when something is troubling you.”

Napoleon sighed.

“I’ve already told Mr. Waverly about something that happened that isn’t on the mission report,” he said. “I thought it would be better for everyone involved if it never came to light that… Ashumen was a traitor.”

“A traitor? Really?” Illya asked, his eyes widening. “Educate me on this.”

“He was going to have Soumarin and Nobuk killed and then lead the country his way—THRUSH’s way,” Napoleon said. “…I made the report seem as though Vulcan was the only guilty party, and Ashumen’s death was a tragic accident. Mr. Waverly agreed that it would be best if his people thought that he died a hero—and I thought it would be best if his friends did, too, even if he would’ve killed them without a second thought.”

“Well, I always say that you are a sentimentalist,” Illya said. “But I agree with Mr. Waverly that his people shouldn’t be disillusioned. Soumarin and Nobuk, on the other hand…”

“You would have told them?”

“Perhaps I would. Don’t you always say that I have the tact of a charging rhinoceros?”

“You really do,” Napoleon said, with a smirk. “But put yourself in their place. Would you have wanted to know if the person you trusted most in the world had died in a plot gone wrong where he’d been trying to kill you?”

Illya arched an eyebrow.

“Is there something about you that I don’t know?”

“Illya, work with me here.”

The Russian gave him a long, searching look.

“Well, what about you?” he asked, at last.

“You didn’t even answer the question!” Napoleon exclaimed.

“Well, you should be able to answer your own question!” Illya countered. “Go on, then. If it was you, would you want to know if I was plotting to kill you?”

“Well… No, I wouldn’t.” Napoleon gave a shrug. “My memories of the last four years are enjoyable, and I’d like them to stay that way. So if something comes up and you find yourself forced to betray me, do me a favor and kill me in my sleep, okay? Or do it some stealthy catlike way—you’re good at that. Just don’t tell me if you’re going to kill me.”

“As you wish,” Illya tried to snark in reply, but it was rather forced; this didn’t escape Napoleon. Despite the Russian’s attempts to remain aloof and largely unemotional, it apparently did distress him to consider ever turning against his partner of four years. Deciding to avoid showing his mask slipping through, Illya held up Napoleon’s mission report. “I will go give this to Mr. Waverly, _da?_ ”

“Yeah, thanks,” Napoleon said. “…But you never answered my question.”

“No.”

“…No, you didn’t answer my question, or is ‘no’ the answer to the question?”

“Yes.”

“Illya!”

The Russian had a wan smile as he left with the report, and Napoleon conceded that it was not a subject he wanted to talk about, and so the matter was forgotten—at least, it was forgotten until four years later, when, during the Gurnius Affair, Illya, in disguise as Colonel Nexor, looked into Napoleon’s eyes and described—loudly, for the benefit of the others in the room—how he would kill Napoleon slowly.

Gurnius and his present flunkies had been impressed, thinking it to be a threat. But Napoleon remembered their conversation from four years ago and knew that it was anything but. If Illya was going to kill him, he wouldn’t have told him. And as the preparations for the electroshock treatment began, Napoleon took solace in that knowledge that, no matter how painful this was, Illya would see to it that he survived it.

And he did.

And it was on the flight back to New York, after Napoleon assured Illya that all was forgiven, that Illya finally looked him in the eyes and gave a direct answer to the question Napoleon had asked four years ago—

“I would not want to know, either,” he said, simply, the emotion nearly undetectable in his voice.

There was no context to the statement, but Napoleon knew exactly what he was referring to. He gave his partner’s shoulder a squeeze.

“I had a feeling.”

But it was all moot, he realized. As today had proven, it was impossible for either of them to betray the other. And they were both grateful for that.


End file.
